Comedy

Sexuality in the land of the rising sun is an often confusing and disturbing subject. There’s nothing a tentacle can’t penetrate, is what I’m saying. But as with all things Japanese, when they choose to unwind, they do it in the most insane and amazing way. Case in point, Japan’s “Naked Festival”.

​Japan is a strange and confusing land. A place where their dogs have a better night life than I do, where they are in a constant state of re-building their nation’s capitol after seemingly ceaseless man-made and natural disasters, giant monster attacks, and where their sexuality is an often confusing, usually disturbing thing.

Which brings us to 9000 nearly naked men clamoring for the opportunity to ram their 20 centimeter lucky sticks into a priest’s box… You know, for luck.

Throw your hands in the air, like you’re trying to catch a luck-granting phallus!

As I’m sure I don’t need to remind you, the 500 year old Hadaka Matsuri, aka “Naked Festival” was held again this past weekend at the Saidai-ji Temple in Okayama, Japan. The event is “highlighted” by a gathering of thousands of be-loin-clothed Japanese men clambering for a pair of 4 centimeter by 20 centimeter batons (shingi), (which are “believed to bring good luck for an entire year to whoever catches them”) hurled from a window by a priest who I’m only assuming, is wearing even less pants behind that window sill.

It looks like the most confusing riot you’ve ever gotten a boner at!

Trying to understand Japanese sexual customs is better left to scholars and mad men who know better the allure of vending machines filled with used panties and pixelated pubic hair–Men who know how a nation can accept and welcome violation via animated tentacle. But the way I see it, 9000 freshly bathed, nearly nude tiny men crammed into one little house of worship, eagerly fighting for the opportunity to ram their lucky wood into a cold, waiting box just sounds like one of the more healthy outlets they have for loosing their pent up frustrations. So come on everybody! Tear off those pants, grab your shingi and fill up that naughty masu! It’s a G-d party!

Just a bunch of guys sharing a bath before smushing themselves together for the night… Ladies.

The internet: it’s our home. We owe almost our entire existence to that of the internet machine. The internet is important to us, it is our life, our being, without it, we are just two angry drunks shouting at keyboards.

But I can’t hump it… yet, anyway.

A survey released by the “Boston Consulting Group”, apparently looking for more answers to the most unverifiable rhetorical questions in no need of answers, revealed that slightly more than 1 in 5 Americans, given the Sophie’s choice of having real life sexual interaction between themselves and another living being, or the ability to watch others making the sweat glazed double spine copter on their lube stained lap top computational machines, would take the digital manipulation over, well, digital manipulation…

What I’m trying to say is that 21% of Americans would give up sex for a year in favor of internet access.

I found so many flaws with this conclusion that I simply had to masturbate on an iPad to make sure I wasn’t already in the Matrix… I discovered too late that that wasn’t entirely necessary, but the damage has been done and we’ll just have to go forward from here.

There were other things which were versed the world wide network in this survey of madness: 84% would forego GPS, 83% would skip fast food, 77% would trade chocolate. Fine, cute, disposable. None of those things are even a fair fight against the mystical wonders of the web net.

I call this "Daddy's Little Weekend Survival Kit"

73% said they would give up alcohol for a year for access to the intertubes.

How could that be? Who would say such a horrible thing? Who ARE these monsters? These sober, celibate monsters!

Now, I fully understand that the only reason you are reading this is because of the miracle of Mrs. Gore’s little boy’s crazy, wonderful idea to connect pornography caches over the nation’s phone system. No one more than I recognizes the importance of the internet. But come now, let us not be crazy, stupid, crazy stupid people. I mean, I enjoy all of the wonders that the world wides have to offer as much as the next guy: the cat themed hijinks, the people falling down and hurting themselves, the pictures of brightly smiled joggers with clever little text jokelettes. But drinky booze, and ladies squishy inlets…

I’ve long believed that the world’s priorities have slipped dangerously out of whack and this survey by the fine people at the Boston Consulting Group has thrown this madness into crystal, laser focus. You’ve lost your god damned minds America. Why, without alcohol and sex, most of you wouldn’t be around to enjoy the wonders of the global information super highway, which you now so foolishly worship, so willing to forsake the two most basic elements of life for!

No. Not I. Not this true blue American hero. I readily admit to a genuine, crippling internet addiction, ingrained into my being since the very beginnings of commercial internet access. It is as much a part of me as anything else that I am. To be without the internet would be like having my eyes plucked from my head and my legs torn off by wild, adorable kittens. But when all was said and done, I would still have my mouth with which to drink the wondrous fermented spirits, and my groin, with which to thrust into only the most willing of participants. And that would be a right and just world, a world that I would be happy to live in. But a world, even for a year, without wet lips and wet hips? There aren’t cat videos cute enough or memes snarky enough to keep me going.

So go on America, forsake the finest things in life for the internet, I’ll just be over here picking up your slack and loving every unplugged minute of it until you come to your ever lovin’ senses.

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Thanks to Dave Chappelle for the title of this blog. I had to steal his end of show sound bite because “Bitch, I’m Rich” sounded kinda rude and “I’m a Rich Bitch” sounded like I was a Kardashian, and I really don’t like the taste of unbleached all purpose flour all up in my mouth, sooooooooooooo … let’s get back to discussing the California Lottery shall we?

I understand that many of you are rushing around like little ants whose little hill has been kicked by a rogue 12 year old pick-nick’r trying to put together 5 numbers with a Mega number that will make you a half a billionaire without even having to own a child labor run corporation in Korea. But why do you think you even have a chance? I’m going to win tomorrow night, and when I do, we will officially change our name to Van Full of Fuck-You Money. The expletive is very necessary, because that’s the kind of money that I spend and say “fuck you” to it when it goes away because it doesn’t mean shit to me. $100 tip on a $5 lunch … fuck you. $300 haircut … fuck you. Wipe my ass with $20’s … fuck you. I couldn’t waste $500 million fast enough before I go to the big 70’s van in the sky.

I heard you won the lottery

When they show my ugly mug on the news asking what I’m going to do with all that scratch, I’ll just say “not giving any of this shit to charity, that’s for sure” and then make out with the hot reporter that they sent to interview me LIVE on air, then later send her home the next morning with a couple of Benjamin’s, and a Jackson for the cab fare, hey, I’m a nice guy, I know cabs are pricey.

Now look, before you get all shitty and think I’m a non-caring asshole who only thinks about his selfishness, I’m going to give you the opportunity to share the wealth with me. Yes. You heard if right here from me. I’m going to share with you the winning lottery numbers. If you choose to use them, then my friend, we’ll both be rich assholes/asshole’ettes, but if you choose not to use them, then you my friend, are going to be working for another 30 years to a retirement of nothingness. Hookers and champagne? Or food stamps and government cheese? Your choice. Here you go …

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It’s a sad day when teenage girls feel the need to post videos asking others if they think the girl is pretty or ugly. Girls, you are not judged by what you look like! You are not a “Pretty” or “Ugly” status, just ask Angelina Jolie, she’ll tell you. So in an effort to understand what these girls are going through, Van Full of Candy decided to jump into the abyss of body image and self esteem by doing our very own research on the subject. Please watch our video and piss all over any self worth we may have had by giving us your brutally honest opinion. Are we Pretty or Ugly ??

Let’s be honest with ourselves, coffee tastes like shit! But that black liquid crack ass drink can be doctored up enough with 4 or 5 Splenda, 1/4 cup of half & half, a little cinnamon on top and BAMMM!! Something tolerable. But then you really need to take into consideration all the time and preparation it takes to get your fix to that point of consumption.

First, if you don’t have a coffee maker in your nasty little apartment, you’ll need to venture out into the world. Yes that’s right, that horrible place where people are, and they judge, you KNOW they judge, especially those snobs at Peet’s and Starbucks. Who the F do they think they are, record store workers? And don’t even get me started on those bitches!! Next you’ll need to walk, bike or drive to said coffee place, and that’s never fun because to get to that point you have to get dressed enough to not be arrested for public indecency. Then the wait! Oh that goddamned wait in line can take up to 3 or 4 minutes sometimes, and we all know we don’t have the time, patience or energy for that shit. I suppose you COULD do a drive-thru, but are there really any Starbuck’s drive-thru’s when you need one? No. The only ones you ever see are about 7 minutes after you’ve had your coffee, or a McDonald’s trying to trick you into drinking their coffee made out of corn. EFF!! And lets not mention the $3.47 price tag for said drink of choice.

Those days are finally over people. Let us rejoice in the newly found brilliance brought to us by the fine people at Aeroshot Energy. These brilliant people have put together some coffee sorcery and created a shotgun shell full of instant pizzazz. You take this bullet of happiness, put it in your mouth, and inhale. Instant cup of coffee in your lungs. YES! Breathe it all on in kiddy’s. And the icing on the cake? No calories. Yeah, nada, zip, zilch. So you can now live like a complete guilt free wired beyond comprehension recluse.She is SO excited for happiness in her mouth!

The official day of love, as told to us by a major greeting card corporation, comes once a year and here we are standing three people deep in an aisle of pink picked over rectangles. We stand there with glazed over eyes, a smidge of drool forming in the corner of our mouths, hoping that there is more than a “Love You Mom” left over. Why must we be reduced to this Hallmark? Is this some sort of sick ass joke?

Episode 2 of “The Van Full of Candy Show” is in the books and with even fewer hitches than before! We’re slowly but surely figuring this thing out. Sort of, we think… Maybe… Well aside from not being able to be heard over the opening theme… We’ll work that out soon.

This week we re-visited with Andrea, who has become our first two time caller and friend of the show, to get a little more explanation of her answering machine message from last week involving the sexual application of bacon and plastic wrap. And amazingly, the explanation only raised more questions than it answered. Eating of the bacon, raw or cooked, wrapping a dead god in bacon to be devoured by his entombed servants. Who the fuck knows. It’s a baconny riddle wrapped in cellophane, wrapped in bacon again!

After a quick word from our sponsors we came back and said hello to ICUP Comedy Troupe‘s Josh Dietz. Josh dropped by to let us know that he is a much better person than we are, and that ICUP Comedy Troupe will be doing a benefit show for Shoes and Sandwiches on February 26th at The California Stage in Sacramento. And if that wasn’t enough “the CUP”, as no one but I call them, will be taking the stage at the The Last Stand Comedy Venue, another friend of the show John Ross’ new club in Chico, California!

Another fine outing for “The Van Full of Candy Show”. We might go so far as to say that, after our previous outings, this just might be the single greatest piece of recorded entertainment since the invention of recording, or entertainment. But again, that’s for you to confirm for us. If you missed this episode of “The Van Full of Candy Show” shame on you, if you can forgive yourself, you’re a better person than we. Check us out again next week LIVE on the interwebs, where we LIVE! Bye now!

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WARNING:

Van Full of Candy only encourages you to climb aboard metaphorical vans for the sole purpose of humorous content. Any embarking upon physical vans, existing in a three dimensional space is to be done with the foreknowledge that you will almost certainly be molested therein. But if that's your thing, enjoy the ride...